Health worries
Today we practiced taking blood pressure, among other things. Went well for the most part, until it was my turn, and while the diastolic pressure was about where it should be, the systolic one was around 145.
That's a not yet alarming, but it's above what it should be with a man of my age and weight. The lecturer recommended that I should take regular readings, and see a doctor if those turned out high too.
So yeah, I'm just a wee bit worried, since my family line has had it's fair share of cardiac- and vascular problems. :(
Poem of the day:
He used to be a hard-working man
saying ''what I do is what I am''
seven days in a week all night long
he was at work, where he did belong
But weeks turned into years, before he knew
and his friends turned from plenty to a few
yet he knew this not, just kept going on
as a forgotten father of a forgotten son
Then in one cold autumn day
he suddenly had no more to say
when his world turned black just outside of the door
and thus he fell and gave a kiss to the floor
Thereafter he lay on a hospital bed
where the machine kept alive, breathed and fed
alone amidst his earthly sorrow
like there was no hope for tomorrow
Then in a dark of a winter night
his soul got wings and took a flight
and the world went on without his life
with all it's wonders, the peace and the strife
And as years passed by, his work lived on
but his name did not live for so very long
as a legend he was had started to rust
and his life's monument had crumbled to dust
Thus after a year or two, give or take
no tears were shed for poor man's sake
as none remembered his name, his deeds
and on his grave, not flowers but weeds
And the question, dear reader, that now is
what to think of all of this?
Did he die like a man at the end of his day
or could things have gone in some different way?
That's a not yet alarming, but it's above what it should be with a man of my age and weight. The lecturer recommended that I should take regular readings, and see a doctor if those turned out high too.
So yeah, I'm just a wee bit worried, since my family line has had it's fair share of cardiac- and vascular problems. :(
Poem of the day:
He used to be a hard-working man
saying ''what I do is what I am''
seven days in a week all night long
he was at work, where he did belong
But weeks turned into years, before he knew
and his friends turned from plenty to a few
yet he knew this not, just kept going on
as a forgotten father of a forgotten son
Then in one cold autumn day
he suddenly had no more to say
when his world turned black just outside of the door
and thus he fell and gave a kiss to the floor
Thereafter he lay on a hospital bed
where the machine kept alive, breathed and fed
alone amidst his earthly sorrow
like there was no hope for tomorrow
Then in a dark of a winter night
his soul got wings and took a flight
and the world went on without his life
with all it's wonders, the peace and the strife
And as years passed by, his work lived on
but his name did not live for so very long
as a legend he was had started to rust
and his life's monument had crumbled to dust
Thus after a year or two, give or take
no tears were shed for poor man's sake
as none remembered his name, his deeds
and on his grave, not flowers but weeds
And the question, dear reader, that now is
what to think of all of this?
Did he die like a man at the end of his day
or could things have gone in some different way?